the moon looks blue tonight
by rainingroses05
Summary: "Keith looks out the window at the maze of bright stars dotting the dark sky. 'You wanted to show me… the stars'" Or, Keith's had a long day. Lance's solution is stargazing.


Keith sits on the edge of his bed, playing with an unraveling corner of his blanket. He runs his tongue over a cut on his lip, wrinkling his nose at the metallic taste of blood. The thread of the blanket tears off in his hand, and he rolls it between his fingers a few times before letting it fall to the ground.

He runs his hand over his face, looking for a bruise to poke at. Something to do with his hands.

Someone knocks softly on the door.

"Yeah?" His voice comes out weak and scratchy, almost inaudible, and he has to say it again before the door slides open.

Keith hears Lance's voice before he sees him leaning against the door frame. "I'm only here because Shiro told me to check on you."

Keith rolls his eyes. "I'm fine." Lance is the last person Keith wants to see right now. At least, that's what half of his brain is telling him. The other half seems oddly comforted by the sight of the other boy in his bedroom, barefoot and wearing pajama pants that are just a bit too long.

Lance pushes off the door frame, reaching Keith's bed in several long strides. "You don't look fine. You look like you got your ass kicked."

"Shut up." The words come out sharper than he means them to. Sometimes it feels like everything does.

"Ok, fine, sorry. I just mean that you look pretty beat up." Lance kicks at the legs of Keith's bed, his foot thumping gently against the floor.

Keith shifts slightly, making a space for him to sit on the bed, and Lance flops back on the mattress.

"The healing pods do still exist, you know."

Keith stares at the wall.

Lance leans his head back again, looking up like there's something to look at up there besides ceiling. He looks like he's stargazing, hands tucked under his head, eyes darting across the ceiling like they're following shooting stars. "Can you _please_ just say _something_?" Lance says softly, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. "Just yell at me if you want or whatever, but say something. You're freaking me out."

Keith sighs. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried about me."

"What?" Lance chews on the inside of his lip. "I mean… is it really that weird that I'd be a little bit worried about you?"

Keith looks over at him. "I guess not," he says carefully. "But I'm not exactly your favorite person." That probably sounds better than, "Yes, it's weird because you hate me."

Lance looks like he's going to argue with that statement but seems to change his mind. "Well, it's not like I'm yours."

Keith shrugs. "I haven't told you to get out yet, have I?"

"Guess not." Lance props himself up on his elbow. "What happened to you out there anyway?" He reaches out like he's going to touch one of the scratches on Keith's face before drawing his hand back quickly.

"There was this… this… test. I don't know, it-" His throat feels dry, and he stops talking.

Lance just nods like that's an acceptable answer.

"Just ask what you really want to ask, Lance," Keith snaps. He looks down at the floor.

"What?" Lance's eyes widen, and Keith feels a slight pang in his chest for snapping at him.

"About me being Galra." Keith exhales all the words in a long, shaky breath that rattles out of his lungs and all the way up his throat. It feels weird to say the words out loud. To Lance. Something is bubbling up in his throat, hot and scared and angry, and Keith bites his lip.

"I wasn't going to… that isn't what I really want to ask."

Keith is going to tell to him that obviously, that is what he really wants to ask, but then Lance makes a face like he's about to say something stupid like, "I can go if you want." So Keith just says, "Okay."

Lance rolls onto his side, the bed shifting under his weight. "I'm serious."

Keith can feel Lance's gaze on him. "Okay," he says again, quieter this time.

The room is too quiet. He can just barely hear Lance breathing. It's usually far from quiet when the two of them are within 20 feet of each other. The difference is almost unsettling.

"Why wouldn't you care?" Keith says when he finally gets his voice back. He hopes Lance can't hear the slight tremble in his voice.

"I mean-" Lance pauses for a long time after the first two words, like the rest of the sentence is stuck in his throat. "It's not like you're a different person. You've been Galra this whole time." He doesn't flinch at the world 'Galra' like Keith does. "We just didn't know it." Lance keeps talking after that, but Keith isn't really listening anymore.

He's thinking about how good it feels for someone to _not care._

There's a well of exhaustion built up behind his eyes, and then there are tears on his face, and it's just _so_ _fucking unfair_ because of all the times, this is not the right one. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays that Lance won't say anything.

He doesn't. Maybe because he doesn't know.

Or maybe because he _does_ know and maybe that's why he presses his shoulder into Keith's side. Maybe that's why he presses the backs of their hands together.

"Come on," Lance says after a moment. He stands, taking a deep breath and stretching his long arms over his head. "I want to show you something." His voice is softer than usual.

Keith rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms before standing up. He's almost too tired to wonder why Lance is being so weird. Almost.

They exit Keith's room and walk silently down the hall, careful to take soft, quiet steps. Lance pulls Keith over to one of the large windows in the center room of the castle. "There. Look."

Keith looks out the window at the maze of bright stars dotting the dark sky. "You wanted to show me… the stars?"

"Well, yeah." Lance rubs the back of his neck.

"Uh, thanks." Keith stares out the window until his eyes hurt. The stars sort of always look the same. Constant. He could stare at them forever, except that he can practically _feel_ Lance looking over at him. "Are you going to keep looking at me like that until I say something?"

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like… ugh. Fine." Keith bites his lip. What's he even going to _say?_ "I just..." He reaches for the words, and they're… Just. Not. There. Keith slams his hand against the wall in frustration.

Lance grabs his wrist, eyes wide. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything-"

"No, I… You wouldn't get it because you've always _had_ people. People like Hunk and your family, and I've never had that, until now, and now- Nevermind. I can't explain it, ok? I've just never had anyone to disappoint before. I'm not used to having people who actually care."

Lance slides his hand down Keith's wrist until their palms are pressed together. "Keith, no one's disappointed." He shrugs. "Except maybe you."

Keith shakes his head. "I'm not-" Suddenly his eyes are watering again, and he rubs them roughly with the backs of his hands.

"God, just come here," Lance says with an exasperated sigh. He wraps his arm around Keith's shoulders and pulls him closer.

Keith can't breathe for a second. It's just that they're so _close,_ and he's not sure he can remember the last time anyone held him like this.

"I can't believe I'm letting you rub your snotty face all over my shirt."

"Shut up," Keith mumbles. A tiny bit of a laugh escapes his throat, even though he should be annoyed or something. He's not sure what exactly he is supposed to feel, but it's probably not this. Not this warm, strange feeling that's creeping from his chest into his fingertips.

"Ok, but tomorrow we're back to being sworn rivals," Lance says, but the corner of his mouth is turned up in a slight smile. He squeezes Keith's hand tighter.

Keith rolls his eyes and looks back out the window. The stars are still glittering.


End file.
